


The Haze

by Gem_Gem



Series: The Haze [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Sherlock, Drunk John, Drunk Sex, Drunk Sherlock, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunkenness, Loss of bum Virginity, M/M, Male Slash, Sherlock has a nice bottom, Top John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 12:04:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5496404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gem_Gem/pseuds/Gem_Gem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sobering slightly to find himself in the middle of sex, John can do nothing but...carry on. It would be pointless to stop, right? Right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Haze

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you like!
> 
> Thanks to [KittieHill](http://archiveofourown.org/users/KittieHill/pseuds/KittieHill) for listening to this idea back when I first thought of it, and for giving me a few things to add in the dialogue.
> 
> I'm currently working on 6 stories but I wanted to give a few early Christmas gifts to you lovely people!
> 
> Keep an eye on my [Tumblr](http://gem-gem-bites.tumblr.com) for updates on other stories or to ask me questions or to give me requests.
> 
> UPDATE: This is now part of a series

The hazy, blurry, spinning world associated with drinking mass quantities of alcohol slowly parted and eased over several long moments, throbbing and lingering in the edges of his vision like a blurred picture frame. He was sobering it seemed. Though it wasn’t enough for John to realise where he was until he became aware of the itching and tingling clawing of pleasure that radiated from his groin and shot up his spine. It pushed back the frame of drunkenness even further and sharpened his sight before he realised he was staring at a ceiling. He was also moving, rocking back and forth with heavy, strained and fast breaths. 

He shuddered and grunted with a frown, and lifted his head from an awkward and lolling angle where he had apparently limply thrown it back. Blinking widely John looked down and literally froze at the sight, his muscles seizing in panic. Sherlock was naked and bent forward over a bed before him, his pale, lithe back tensing and flexing with a rippling bodily tremor, and his hips were red where John was very tightly still gripping. His bare backside was pressed into John’s pelvis, and John stared down at it, letting out a panicked wheeze as he felt Sherlock’s body spasm and contract around his cock.

“Oh God…” John slurred, trying not to concentrate on how pleasurable it all felt, or how supple and plump and good Sherlock’s buttocks were where they pushed up against him, but suddenly couldn’t stop indulging in how hot and wet Sherlock was. “Fuck…Oh God…I…fuck!”

Sherlock jolted at the sound of John’s voice and lifted his mussed head, mumbling something incoherent and husky as he shifted his body in a somewhat impatient sort of way. He seemed just as drunk and out of it as John must have been moments prior, and John tried to focus on Sherlock with another wheeze, sliding a shaking hand up his bowing back to clumsily knock his head aside with his fingers to get his attention. Sherlock sniffed and frowned, batting John’s hand away in complaint, but the touch still jarred Sherlock enough for him to squint and blink several times, gazing around the room and then looking over his shoulder with a twist of his torso. Each movement Sherlock made squeezed John’s twitching erection like a vice, and John moaned, falling forward to push his brow into Sherlock’s sweat-slicked back.

“John?” Sherlock murmured, voice deep and thick and garbled. 

“Yeah,” John groaned, gripping Sherlock’s hips a little tighter and clenching his eyes shut. His body was trembling all over and aching to move, his cock practically throbbing. It was almost like an out of body experience for John, the lingering effects of the alcohol leaving him feeling as if his body was both his and not, and his mind slipped and restarted and flared and sobered, only to start the cycle over again when the blurriness around his vision dilated.

“I think I’m drunk,” Sherlock told him, voice muffled as his face fell back toward the bed. He laughed then, and the tensing of his muscles made John gasp and rut suddenly forward, cutting the laughter short. “Ah! Wh-what? What are you doing, John? What are you…?”

John forced his head up as Sherlock trailed off and swallowed, “I thought alcohol into-intoxi-intoxication was meant to affect sexual arousal,” was the first thing that tumbled out of his mouth deliriously.

“John…John, your penis is in my—”

“Shut. Up. Don’t you think I know that? – How…how did this happen? Do you remember? I don’t remember…I just remember drinking…” John mumbled lowly, exhaling raggedly when he felt another surge of desire to thrust into Sherlock’s open and embracing body. “…I’m still…a little drunk right now…”

Sherlock blinked sluggishly at him, “…You’re not going away.”

“Right…” John whispered, blurrily eyeing Sherlock’s curving spine with a sudden wave of arousal.

“John, you-you’ve still not—aren’t you going to get out of me?” Sherlock asked with a frown, shaking as he sobered a little more and turned his head to look around the room again.

John’s hips trembled and he rubbed one hand over his face, forcing himself to ignore the gratifying, addicting sensation of being inside Sherlock’s enticing backside, “Give me a moment…” 

“We’re in my room,” Sherlock observed, and awkwardly picked up an open bottle of lube from nearby, coating his fingers and some of his wrist with it when it oozed from the top. He crunched up his nose in disgust and dropped it, wiping it off on the bed sheets, and wiggled backward into John to get away from the wet patch, rumpling the covers.

“Oh God—don’t move,” John moaned and pressed his mouth into the warm skin between Sherlock’s shoulder blades as he jerked further into Sherlock’s arse. “Jesus, Sherlock…don’t do that…you feel so—”

“Mm!—Oh God…good…” Sherlock gasped wetly from beneath him, going rigid. He then reached curiously back to where John’s hips were up against him, “Good…that felt…felt good…” 

John nodded and pushed up away from Sherlock’s back uneasily, bracing himself on one arm, “Y-yeah…yeah…”

“…Again,” Sherlock unexpectedly breathed in a mumbling slur, dropping his hand to grab a fistful of the sheets with a slow arch of his hips.

“Yeah,” John replied feverishly, and slowly pulled out, almost all the way, and then pushed back in just as slowly. He repeated the motion a little bit faster, a little bit harder, and Sherlock moaned in pleasure, adjusting his position eagerly as John changed his stance, angled his pelvis and nudged Sherlock’s prostate.

Sherlock’s entire body flexed with his sharp and high-pitched inhalation, and John cupped the back of Sherlock’s neck and pushed him gently down, thrusting into him slow and long and deep. His eyes fell closed on the next shuddering push in, and he relaxed into the motions, enjoying the natural gathering of speed and the prickling need to move stronger and harder.

“Ah!—Oh yes…yes. It feels so…so—Left! Shift slightly to your left again and you’ll hit my…oh. Oh yes. Th-there. Again. Lovely. Please. Again,” Sherlock slurred deeply, his voice unsteady and muffled by the bed and then his hand as he covered his face and groaned.

John bucked roughly half a dozen times and then angled Sherlock’s hips with both hands, “I…I know where your prostate is Sherlock…” 

Pulling back with a shiver, John looked down at the stretched, flushed pink, skin around his cock and watched, transfixed, as it clenched greedily with a moist squelch, dragging along his hardened shaft as he withdrew completely. Sherlock whined and lifted his head with a confused, dazed and still slightly drunken look, and John stared back with a pulsing focus, and pushed himself slowly back in, watching the fuzzy image of Sherlock’s face tighten and then slacken in satisfaction. John could feel how tense and desperate Sherlock was when he was fully seated into his clinging body, and growled lowly, finally giving in to his almost overwhelming urge to fuck Sherlock into the bed.

Leaning his weight forward, John forcefully thrust into Sherlock, “There,” he breathed, as Sherlock dropped his head and pushed back against him, hips jerking, “Yeah…this is what you want…”

“Yes…Oh God, yes,” Sherlock grunted loudly, covering his face again and gasping between his trembling fingers.

“You feel so good,” John panted and leaned closer over Sherlock’s back to kiss a freckle on Sherlock’s shoulder mindlessly, thrusting shallowly right against Sherlock’s prostate. “Fucking sexy, you are…so…so amazing and…and hot…”

Sherlock shuddered in reply and scrambled a little against the bed in enthusiasm, “Touch me. Please…I…I need you to touch me!”

John frowned but nodded and wriggled one shaking hand around to where Sherlock’s own erection had been ignored. It was slick and extremely hard, and it twitched in John’s grip as he curled his fingers around it and gave it an awkward, clumsy stroke, which had Sherlock bucking with a loud enthusiastic groan. John tried to match his hand with his thrusts and moaned into the damp nape of Sherlock’s neck, nosing the sweaty curls there and thrusting sharper and harder at the resulting sharp jolts of lust the scent sent through his working hips. It felt like he was melting and igniting over and over again, like molten lava had replaced the blood rushing through his veins, and he worked harder still with an echoing slap of skin against skin.

“Oh God,” John huffed with a dizzying rush of coiling pleasure in his groin and struggled to keep a grip on Sherlock’s cock and hip as they moved frantically together, rolling with erratic motions into Sherlock’s shaking backside and thighs. “So…so close…”

Sherlock nodded desperately, knocking his forehead into the mattress and covering his face once again with a broken moan, his fingers scrabbling at his hair and then the bed sheets in the next moment as John pushed harder and deeper, losing himself in the unravelling desire. The feeling of Sherlock’s engorged and wet penis sliding and pushing through his fingers only made the desire burn hotter and more intense, and John bit down on one shaking shoulder.

“Yes!” He heard Sherlock wheeze beneath him, his hips thrusting back and forth to work into John’s hand and then back on John’s cock with an increasingly desperate whine. “Yes…yes…”

When Sherlock abruptly toppled over the high edge of orgasm he groaned almost deafeningly, arched his back, clenched his arse, and trembled rigidly in a taut, curved line. His cock hardened unbelievably further with a rough throb and then pulsed hot and fast and thick over John’s hand and the bed, splashing up Sherlock’s juddering stomach. It was explicit and erotic and practically pornographic, and John lost all control of himself with a low, shaking grunt.

Involuntarily grabbing a handful of Sherlock’s curls John jerked his hips faster, scrunched his eyes closed and gave in to the sharp pull of climax with a series of rough and loud breaths before he buried himself in deep, shivered and let pleasure crash through him like an overpowering flood. Forcing his eyes back open, he stared down at Sherlock’s body and moaned as his cock twitched and throbbed within him, filling the squeezing space with hard spurts of come.

“Oh…” Sherlock whimpered as John collapsed forward and draped himself over his sweaty back, and Sherlock crashed face first into the bed from the extra weight. “Ow…”

John laughed breathlessly as he slowly came back to himself, coming down from his high, “Sorry,” he slurred and drew back, watching the fluttering and slightly puffy stretched skin of Sherlock’s arse in entrancement. It was only then that John noticed the gleam of the condom and blinked, carefully fumbling with it and stepping back with a wobble as he took it off and looked around for a bin of some sort, mind fuzzy with drink and the lasting effects of orgasm.

Sherlock pushed up sluggishly, breathing hard and smeared in his own ejaculate, and looked around dazedly, hair sticking up and overly mussed and his cheeks flushed. He looked a state; wrecked and too exceedingly attractive for someone who was both drunk and who had just been thoroughly shagged. He turned to face John and smiled, then giggled, and rubbed his face and head, falling back on the bed before jerking back up with a whine as he landed on come and lube. 

John giggled himself in reply and stumbled into the bedroom door on his way out to dispose of the condom in the bathroom. When he tripped back in, Sherlock had pushed the wet covers off the bed and had rolled and spread out over the mattress, dopily smiling up at the ceiling with half-lidded eyes, still covered in his own mess. John made a face and inelegantly wiped him down, then dropped on the bed beside him.

“We’re really going to regret this in the morning,” he murmured into Sherlock’s shoulder, closing his eyes slowly. “This was so bad…”

“Was good,” Sherlock mumbled and turned to face him, his smile suddenly wider and wonky with exhilaration, “…my bum will be sore though.”

John snorted and then burst into tipsy laughter, unable to stop even as a rumbling of panic flared in his gut again like a spark, preparing to ignite and grown bigger at a moment’s notice. Feeling dizzy, John closed his eyes and fell into unconsciousness with Sherlock warmly pressed to his side smelling of sex and scotch and musk.

**Author's Note:**

> Gosh I suck at endings...
> 
> Feedback fuels me!


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